


cherry blossom boy

by xqba



Series: cherry blossoms [1]
Category: Friday Night Funkin' (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Overstimulation, Pegging, Pet Names, big black dildo cuz its the best dildo color, friday night fuckin', good grammar at least, i have a lot of femininity related trauma but hopefully you do not, it is truly a blank slate for ya, its his first time getting pegged, no appearance mention, no mention of y/n, or could be subtly goth, sam gets a boner and its tragic, senpai (sam), shes too good for us but we admire her from afar, subtly punk reader, sunday night suckin', theres a teacher milf, until we scramble sam's guts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29297268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xqba/pseuds/xqba
Summary: silly you lands in detention for beating up a misogynist. silly you gets looked after by the school's golden boy. silly you slams the school's golden boy, but you slowly start to become seduced by him. roll credits
Relationships: Reader & Senpai, Reader/Senpai, Senpai & Reader, Senpai/Reader
Series: cherry blossoms [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152566
Comments: 18
Kudos: 176





	cherry blossom boy

**Author's Note:**

> senpai's real name is sam here, because referring to him as senpai the entire time gave me icks. also, senpai is magically completely empty and clean. anyways enjoy!
> 
> all thanks to my editor @doqteeth, who has a fic of their own on the way! I recommend reading it when it comes out!! good stuff

The whole thing was fucking bullshit.

You smack your lips, cherry red gum popping from between your teeth as you champ tiredly towards the detention room. Imagine being 18, a legal adult, and yet still being treated like a child. Granted, you did punch the lights out of that misogynistic rat in the gym hallway. But, to be completely fair, he got his shot in. You smirk a little at the thought as you wipe the red from your nose. That  _ does  _ make it fair, right? The caked on blood under your fingernails say otherwise, but you’ve never been one for self debate. It is what it is.

A little detour is needed to wash your hands of your fellow student’s blood. The teachers had been so caught up in tearing you two apart that they had forgotten to tell you to wash the blood off of yourself, but that was okay. Taking the time to scrub your hands completely clean, you look into the mirror at your face and release a sigh you didn’t know you were holding. Twisting your jaw from side to side, you take a deep look at the banger on your eye; the thing was turning faintly purple, but it was nothing you couldn’t look good in. Lends you a sort of… fun… appearance, one could say. A gentle press of a cold, wet paper towel to your bruising skin made you startle at first, but after a few seconds, your eye began to ache a little less. With a sigh, you wad the paper towel and toss it into the can, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and exiting the bathroom at last.

As you swing open the door to the detention room, you’re a little startled to see how  _empty_ the room was. You shouldn’t be surprised, since there weren’t usually more than a couple kids in here for detention, anyways; the school wasn’t exactly the strictest, though the programs were amazing. Usually good teachers are strict teachers, but you suppose you got lucky.

The room isn’t entirely empty, though. The teacher overseeing detention is sitting at her desk at the front of the room, leaning over her phone with a squint. Hearing you enter, she whips up straight, looking around for a second before flipping her phone downwards and smiling at you. She ignores your disheveled appearance; you assume news had already gotten around about the details about your skirmish. Maybe a few rumors, too. Nothing new. You drop your backpack into a desk near the back of the classroom.

“Hey, Miss L,” you say, taking your seat with all the grace of a street cat. Miss L waves at you with a small, knowing smile.

“Hello. Detention again?” She laughs, the sound smooth and savory as melting butter. You laugh back-- Miss L was an absolute joy.

“How’d you know?”

She’s about to answer, before the door swings open a second time. In walks none other than Samuel… something. You don’t know his last name, only that he’s some sort of goody two-shoes blondie that everyone follows around like lovesick little puppies. Sammy Sam, the pride and joy of the school, despite his usually disheveled uniform. Something about that loose tie and untucked shirt makes you feel a little extra unimpressed by him. Blowing your hair out of your face, you set your chin in your hand with an unceremonious sigh.

Sam gives you a curious look, bending over the teacher’s desk and talking quietly with her before laughing loudly, practically broadcasting the stupid twinkle in his voice. You don’t care to listen, though you catch snippets of their quick conversation here and there. With a final huff, Miss L stands up from her chair, towering over the blonde student with an amicable smile. She mentions something to him, before turning to you. 

“Sam will be looking after the classroom while I’m gone. I won’t be gone for long, but you know…” She waves. “Can’t leave students unattended.” She turns to Sam. “I guess Sam will do,” she murmurs, before walking out of the classroom in quite the hurry.

The bang of the wooden door against the frame leaves uncomfortable silence in its wake. Purposely ignoring Sam, you stare out the window. Sam looks a little anxious to be left alone with you; you don’t exactly have the best reputation. And him… well, he isn’t one to let strangers be, so he’s undoubtedly feeling some pressure right now. A good quality, they say. You’d say being left alone was a good quality too. The social tension between the two of you seemed to croak and groan in the air under the strain of your silence. He itches his scalp with a nervous gulp, before opening his mouth.

“Hi, I-”

“I know who you are.” You cut him off.

Things are silent for a moment. “Right…” he mutters. “And I know who you are, too.”

You lift a brow. Dearest Senpai knows who you are? How fascinating. How  _ honoring. _ You shrug.

“I can only imagine.” You grin a little, wiping a drip of blood from your nose absentmindedly. “What? I don’t  _ scare  _ you, do I?” You tilt your head curiously at him. Even if you’ve gotten in a few fights, that doesn’t mean you’re scary, right?

Sam blanches a little. “O-of course not!” He says defensively, leaning over the teacher’s desk. He straightens up a little, flicking his gaze to the side. “So what if you… you’ve fought some people. I could fight you, too.” A paper grin locks on his face as he looks back at you.

You narrow your eyes. Luckily for him, you don’t fight skinny white boys for fun. Especially not blondes; they’re too easy to break. You break eye contact first, looking down at the table with disinterest.

“Yeah, I bet,” you murmur with a small laugh.

Sam quite visibly got a little red at this. “What? You don’t think I could?” He nearly sneers, gripping the desk.

Struggling to hold back much of your laugh, you shake a little more, looking at him in disbelief. “Oh, I’m sure you could…  _ fight  _ me. Winning…” you scratch your nose. “Is a whole different beast.”

Unable to handle your attitude, Sam glowers your way before stomping over to you, placing his hands on your desk this time. You look up, a little shocked that he had cleared so much room in so few steps.

“Oh yeah? Is that a threat?”

Looking up at Sam’s glittering blue eyes, you run your tongue along your teeth a little, pulling your lips into a half-grin. “No, puppy,” You said, grabbing the loose tie of his shirt, and pulling his face down to yours. You thrust your hip into your desk, just barely bumping it into his hips; his shoulders shake with a gulp as he faces you, eyes wide. “That’s a  _ promise _ .” You whisper, letting his tie go with a dramatic push. He stumbles back, his breathing irregular with staccato gasps. He’s prettier when he’s starving for air. And quiet, too. So much bark, so little bite. It’s almost a shame.

Sam turns away from you quickly, adjusting his tie. “I... “ His voice breaks for a moment. “You… You c-can’t just grab p-people like that.” He mutters, red creeping up his neck.

Oh, was he actually scared? You didn’t mean to do  _ that . _ You hadn’t meant any violence by it. “I’m sorry, I won’t actually hurt you, you know…” you peer around a little, curious to see his expression. “I’ll be good.” You clasp your hands on the desk.

Turning his head a little abashedly to look at you, you notice how delicate his eyelashes look against the red, red glow of his cheeks. “I-it…  _ oh my god _ ,” he seethes. “It’s not that. It’s… its not. I’m not scared of you. Forget I said anything. We don’t have to fight, even.”

Well, that's odd. You nod, unfolding your hands. “Well, at lea-” your hand slaps audibly over your mouth as Sam turns around, startled, uncovering the massive tent in his pants. You couldn’t help but let out a roaring laugh as Sam turns absolutely  _ purple  _ with embarrassment, spinning back around. “Stop laughing!” He hisses. He sounds like he’s about to cry.

“NO! No, I’m not!” You insist, very audibly still laughing. “I’m noooot.” You quiet down just enough to hear his grumbles. “Look, it's  _ very  _ normal. I don’t judge.” You put both of your hands up. Sam didn’t seem very placated by that.

You let out another tiny laugh as he glares at you. “Aw, come on! Can’t I laugh a little? I’m the innocent party here!”

Sam lets out a ragged sigh. “I can’t believe I’m 18 and still haven’t outgrown random boners,” he says despairingly. More of a thought out loud, but it was a funny one nonetheless.  
“Oh, you don’t grow out of those, Sammy. I’m afraid those are yours for life.” Your voice has a mischievous tilt to it. “Especially when being dominated is your sort of thing.” You lift a heavy platform shoe to your desk, leaning back in your chair to pick your chipping nails. “You’re fucking sick, you know!” 

He shoots you a venomous look.

“What, is  _ dominating  _ your sort of thing?” His voice has a sing-song sort of fun-poking in it, though you can tell he’s… quite intrigued. Try as he did to hide it, his hard-on is going nowhere, and he’s just standing there like it was going to go away. Men.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your gaze fixates on your fingers, though you’re  _ dying  _ to see the expression on his face. You know he’s looking at you, though, so you can’t.

Sam hesitates for a moment, before leaning a little closer to your desk, making up for the distance he had hopped. “Your cheeks are red,” he points out. Your back flies ramrod straight as you drop your foot back to the ground.

“What? No they’re not!” you scoff at him. It’s true, though; you can feel the heat spreading across your face and down your neck and back at his stupid little question. “So what if it is? You should have guessed.” You mutter, sinking back into your seat.

He smirks. Stupid rat. “I don’t like to judge a book by their cover.” Corny.

“Cover tells you a lot about the book.”  
His smirk drops for a second. “What does my cover say about me?” He asks curiously.  
Your answer is abrupt. “It says you need desperately to be fucked.” You cross your arms. “Your dick is at Russian attention.” As if he had forgotten about it, Sam turns back and leans away.

“Sorry. I should… probably…” He gestures towards the direction of the bathrooms down the hall. You raise a brow. Really? Seeing your expression, he shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”  
Your jaw drops. “Wouldn’t be the- are you serious?”

Sam nods. “It's more common than you think.”  
You just shake your head. “What are you even gonna think about?” Sam laughs, before realizing you were genuinely curious. He turns even redder, if such a thing was possible.

“What? Don’t ask me that!” He stammers. You shrug, mirroring his action from before.  
“Why not? What, is it disgusting?” You smile at him, trying to bite back your laugh.

Sam averts his gaze. “N-no… I don’t think so.” Now  _ you  _ are intrigued. You slide your eyes up his body, his disheveled shirt just barely covering the imprint in his pants. His shy, red face is turned slightly to the side, wispy blond hair falling over his brows… Fuck, yeah. Yeah, he’s… yeah. Suddenly you become aware of the dull ache in your gut.

“You probably think about the gaggle of sophomores that follow you around, huh?”

“What? No! That’s gross! No.” He chews his bottom lip a little; such a meek gesture in relation to his declarations of violence just 20 minutes prior. He’s so shy about sex. He’s fine to have his privacy, but he should know you could care less. You won’t shame him… unless he’s a fucking weirdo. You’re both adults. Seeing the expression on your face, he sighs. “Do you know what…” His voice gets a little quieter as he hides his words behind his hand. “Pegging is?”

The sharp cackle that escapes you was involuntary. “Oh, _puppy._ Of course I do!” You laugh. He turns away completely, rubbing his face.  
“Ugh, oh my God. I can’t believe I even fucking told you that, that is so embarrassing. Just forget I said anything.” He groans, nearly in tears again.

“No, no!” You sit up against the desk. “No, no. You were just going to go think about that? Have you ever even gotten fucked before?” Sam loses his breath for a second.

“Don’t say it like  _ that _ ,” He hisses. You smirk.

“C’mon.”

He seems to debate with himself for a second, before uncovering his mouth just enough. “No…”

“Then how do you even know you like it?” You cock your head, trying to ignore the heat coiling in your belly.

“I… I…” He blanches.

You think for a moment, considering your options. You do have somewhere to go after school, but you hadn't anticipated falling into a fight. You eye your gym bag for a second. You decide the risk was well worth the reward.

“You seem clearly excited by whatever the hell I’m doing, so how about this.” You stand up, leaning sideways onto the desk. Meeting him at eye level seemed a little less… rude. Maybe it’s intimidating for him. “I’ll indulge you.”

His face turns paper white, the blood draining from his skin. “I-in-indulge?” He stutters. His messy blonde hair falls over his wide eyes.

You shrug. “Yeah. I fix your little issue, you don’t tell the teacher I left early.” You look at him carefully. He seems to consider it for a moment, before shaking his head  _ no  _ quite vigorously.

“No way am I fucking a  _ complete stranger _ ,” he says, his voice squeaking.

“No, I’d be fucking  _ you _ . But, I respect that. I’m leaving anyway. Tattle if you’d like.” You pick up your bag from your chair and begin to walk towards the door. All of a sudden, you feel a hand tugging you back by the handle of your backpack. You spin around, irritated. Sam’s big blue eyes, pleading and just a touch needy, look up at you. So  _ shy.  _ So much for the macho bravado he shows around the crowd of girls that follow him around everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

“I… I…” Sam bites his pink bottom lip, hand subconsciously hovering over his issue. “I…”

Never in your  **entire life** have you ever wanted someone to plead for you so badly.

Backing him into the wall with slow, deliberate steps, you wait for him to spit out the words. “Say it.” You command. “I need to hear you say it.”  
Sam shuts his eyes for a second, before reopening them to look at you again. His voice is cracked and needy. “I… I want you… to…” He gulps. “To… take… care of me.” He looks away, ashamed. You drop your bags from your shoulders and slam him against the wall, your hand forcing his jaw to face center as you kiss him with vigor. His lips are so soft and plush, impossibly so; they move against yours with skill and dexterity, though his hands are clumsily fumbling with your shirt collar. As your hand grazes his pants, his hips twitch - lips quivering a just-audible gasp against yours.

“F-Fuck,” he stutters into your skin as your hand snakes up to his button. “Fuck, I-”

You stop. “Are you okay?”

To your relief, he nods vigorously. “Yes, God, yes. Please,” He buries his face in the crook of your neck, embarrassed. “G-go on.”

Christ, that was attractive.

“Okay, I will, puppy,” you coo, slowly slipping your hand back up his shirt as his skin quivers under your touch. His labored squeaks tell you exactly where he gets sensitive. Somehow, it’s all over the place. As you drag your long nails down his lower abdomen, he lurches forward into you with a gasp. “Be patient, will you?” You can feel a slight nod on your shoulder as he complies wordlessly.

“You’re not as bratty as I thought you’d be,” you say as you unbutton his pants, sliding a hand down the front of his underwear to feel for his cock. You gently scrape a nail across its length, feeling the drool of the man in your arms pool on your shirt. His hips twitch again, as did his cock at your touch.

“Why would I be…  _ nnh… _ bratty…” He moans as you grind your thigh against him. You smile. He’s so sensitive, it is  _ such  _ a treat. “Blondes always are,” you whisper. His powdery pink blush dusts across his cheeks.

“What’s it matter if I’m blonde?” He grumbles, pulling you tighter so you didn’t have to see his expression. You take the opportunity to turn into his neck, licking and biting at the skin as you grind a palm against his dick. His heaving gasps turn into quiet moans as you speak low against his skin. “Nothing. I just like blondes. So sweet, and innocent.” You shove your palm a little harder against him as he jolts up with a sound of dismay. “Have you ever even had sex before?”

“Of course I have!” Sam protests, lifting his head to look at you. He presses his face back into your neck. “I just didn’t… enjoy it. A lot. So it’s not a big deal.” At that, your smirk widens. No  _ way. _ He was down  _ this  _ bad, that he couldn’t enjoy being with another girl unless that girl was fucking him? Incredible.

“Oh, you’ll enjoy this,” You murmur. “I’ll make sure of it.” He grins against your shirt.

“Glad you’ve got my best interests in min-  _ mpfh! _ ” You cut off his snarky comeback with a kiss, opening his lips with yours so that he was panting open praise as you grind your hips against him, already feeling a tight wetness in your panties. You try to hold back your own moans, but the friction made a gasp leak out every now and then as you edge Sam closer to cumming. Just as his cries reach a crescendo, you tear away from him, letting him pant, confused.

“Why’d you stop?” Sam asks, delirious. “P-please-”

You cut him off again, this time with your words. “I’m edging you, dumbass. You’re not cumming until I say so.” He reels back a little.

“Thats… that’s not fair! I can’t control it-” He protests. You cut him off for the third time.

“No, but I can.” You point at the closet. “If you’re going to complain, go sit in there. Be a good boy, won’t you?”

Sam seems confused. “The… closet?”   
You roll your eyes. “Duh. If people walk in on me with my strap on, it’ll hardly be a cute front page picture.” You smirk. “To normal people, I guess. You’re a sick freak, I bet you’d love that.”

Sam’s eyes open wide. “Get  _ caught?  _ Oh my God, Miss L said she’ll be back soon. It’s been longer than  _ soon! _ We have to... “ You roll your eyes.

“If you want me to finish you, get in the closet and take your pants off.” Sam hesitates for a moment, before hurriedly opening the closet. Again… men.

You  _ had _ an appointment of sorts after school that you had to cancel for obvious reasons. Unzipping your duffel bag, you take out the second big bag that holds your weapon of choice. Pulling it out of the bag, you unfold it, and strap it securely under your skirt, pulling the fabric down to cover it up. The sleek black dildo strapped to your hips is just barely covered by the aforementioned skirt, the black tip peeking out from underneath. The friction of the fabric of your panties against your clit makes you heave a little; God. Get a grip. It’s just Sam… Right? This is a favor to him, not to you. Nodding, you grab the lube from your bag and open the door to the closet, where Sam is waiting with one leg stuck in his pants on the floor. Hm.

You look at him struggling from the floor; there’s just enough light in the closet after you close the door that you can see his face clearly as he looks up at you in reverence. Probably for the best; he’ll chicken out if he sees the size of your dick. Well, your fake one. Regardless, you crawl onto the dusty floor and over to Sam, taking his throat with your fingers and kissing his neck and jawline gently. Sam lets out a fluttery sigh, his hips inching closer to your knee with every kiss. You slip off the rest of his pant leg (he had gotten stuck somehow) and run a hand up his bare inner thigh, lifting the edge of his boxer brief. Sam’s dick slips out with a spring and a gasp; his tip is criminally wet and blushy pink, and even the slightest brush of your hand makes him stutter into your ear.

“You’re a good boy,” you whisper into his ear, kissing his lobe. He whimpers breathily, unable to contain his delicate mewls as you stroke his pink tip with one finger. “You’re good for me, right?” Sam nods again, too shy to speak. He switches up so quickly. “Your lips are so pink and pretty for a man,” you purr, tracing a nail across his cupid’s bow. “They’d look so cute around my cock.” Sam turns simply  _ vermillion  _ at this.

“Y-you-” You shake your head, pressing your finger to his lips.

“It’s fake, genius. But I still want your lips around it, I want the taste under your tongue when I kiss you. God, I want to  _ fuck _ you so bad, but I have to be patient with you.” Your nails press into his throat once more as you grip him with excitement, a ragged sigh escaping your mouth. A pitiful little gasp comes from him as you grip his cheeks and stand up, draping your skirt up so he could see the cock strapped to your hips. Hesitantly, he takes the base of your dildo in hand, lapping at the tip sheepishly. You grab a fistful of his hair (though quite gently, to be fair), guiding your cock into his mouth in one gentle stroke. You let go of his hair, instead resting a hand on his head.

“Go on,” you purr, as he took your dick with a little more spirit. Strangely, it almost feels as though you can feel his hot throat around you; that’s the power of seeing him take your strap. The mental arousal is almost equal to the physical. You let out a strained gasp as your strap gyrates against your clit with every movement of Sam’s mouth. The coil in your stomach heats up  _ white hot _ , your toes curling as you hold onto a bookcase for support. As your breathing quickens and Sam begins taking your dick faster, you start to thrust into his mouth, craving the friction against your clit. Just before you come, you withdraw, panting with heavy breaths as you let out little whines. Sam looks up at you with something akin to begging. “Did I… do it right?” He cocks his head. Like a fucking  _ puppy.  _

“Fuck. Yes, you did,” you groan, still panting.  _ Christ.  _ He looks so fucking erotic, with drool dripping from his pink, pink lips and a blush spreading across his cheeks. His messy blonde hair is facing every which way, and his slender, pale hands look so fucking good clutching your thighs. His dick is leaking onto his skin; you swipe a finger through the fluids and taste it.

Fruity. You hold back a laugh.

Going back to your knees, you crawl over him once more, letting your fake black cock flop onto his slim belly. The wet smack is so impossibly lewd that you can’t help but dip lower to Sam; you kiss him with fervor, itching to taste the silicone on his tongue. The trace of silicone mixed with Sam’s natural taste is  _ quickly  _ becoming your new favorite flavor. Slipping a tongue inside Sam’s mouth, you tilt your head to deepen the kiss as he begins to thrust into your hips with sharp gasps, his blonde hair thrown about like an angelic halo as he lets out such sinful noises. “P-please,” Sam begs. “Please, I… I need you in me, I want you in me so fucking bad, please, I want you to fill me up so  _ badly _ ,” he mewls against your ear. Say less. You pop the cap on your lube, squeezing a good portion of the tube out onto your cock, completely missing. Half of the lube lands on his stomach, but that’s alright. In your hurry to fuck the living daylights out of this stupid blonde, you had lost your sense of aim.

“Oh puppy, I’ll do more than fill you up,” you laugh into his ear, placing your lips on his neck as you rub your dildo in the slick created by all the extra lube next to his cock. He lets out a fucking  _ needy  _ beg, sliding his hands to his cock as you swing his wrists above his head. “Stop trying to touch yourself,” you growl. “That’s my job.” You gyrate your hips against his as you slip your cock against his stomach, the friction just enough to keep Sam up but not enough to get him off. He’s crying into your ear now, begging for you to fuck him,  _ anything _ .

“Jesus, blondes are noisy,” you mutter, before withdrawing your strap and letting Sam catch his breath. Your pussy is dripping unceremoniously onto his leg; the friction against Sam’s leg and your strap had nearly made you cum too. Your leg is shaking from the effort of holding it back. His glazed expression and wet, bitten lips makes your hands tighten a little.

Sam’s heavy breathing gives away his state. So does yours. As he breathes, you silently line up the tip of your dick to the entrance of his hole; there was so much lube, you doubt it would take a lot of effort. “Tell me when,” you smirk, as Sam lets out a howling “ _ now! _ ” and you slowly plunge your strap into him. His moans are  _ incredible _ . Sweet sounds stutter high notes in your ear as he throws his head back and tries to keep his tears at bay. “Oh my god,” he gasps, his words coming undone. “O-oh m-m-m-  _ huk! _ ” He’s cut off by your final push into him, taking you base deep. His hole puckers around your strap; you could feel his muscles pulling you in. You sit still for a moment, letting him adjust. He wheezes into your ear, nails digging into your back and bunching up your shirt.

And then, in the silence of the room, is when you hear the door open.

No, not the door to their closet; the door to the classroom. You hear the click of heels on tile; it’s likely Miss L coming back to see where her students had gone. Sam looks to you with panic in his eyes, what with you still being plastic-balls-deep in his asshole. You just shake your head at him. Sam grabs you with an open arm, pulling you close to him.

“ _ What are you doing?”  _ Sam hisses. “ _ She’s going to find out if you don’t-”  _ Sam’s heated whisper turns into a moan as you accidentally shift inside him. Your hand quickly covers his mouth, sticking fingers on his tongue to keep him quiet. His airless pants around your fingers make you more wet than his loud moaning from before.

You lean into him. “ _ Just trust me, puppy. Have I ever led you astray? _ ” Sam looks at you skeptically. “ _ We can stop if you want. _ ” 

He shakes his head a little too fast. you stifle a laugh. Of course.

“ _ No… don’t stop…just be careful,”  _ he whispers back. You smile. Excellent. Slowly, you begin pumping in and out of Sam, at an excruciatingly slow pace. He moans quietly around your fingers as you grip his jaw, his dick twitching with every inch of your huge strapon. You can hear Miss L’s heels clicking around the classroom, rustling your bags and pushing in your chair. 

You laboriously envelope your sleek dick into Sam’s ass once more, rolling your hips against his pelvis as you bottom out in him again. He lets out a stuttering cry, muffled just barely enough by the fingers in his mouth. You quickly withdraw your strap from his hole, slamming your hand entirely over his mouth as you hear Miss L’s heels click towards your hiding spot, before turning and exiting the classroom at last.

You both breathe out a sigh as Sam looks at you.

“You're a dick,” he accuses, any conviction in his voice lost to his breathy tone.

“You asked me to keep going,” you laugh.

Sam grumbles something incoherent. When you ask him to speak up, he says, “why’d you stop then? I… I felt…” he looks to the side, embarrassed. “Something.”

You  _ tsk _ . “Yeah? Get on your stomach.” You command. “Trust me. I wanted to watch your face when I fucked you, but this’ll be better.” He looks shocked at the suggestion, but quickly flips around with the help of your hands gripping his slim waist. He looks back at you, eyes lidded with shame -  _ exactly _ how you liked them.

“Like… like this?”

You nod, pulling him closer by his hips. His back dips naturally with a beautiful curve, his pale skin completely markless save for the freckle in the small of his back. Huh, he  _ is  _ beautiful. Handsome, yes, but pretty felt more apt. He’s masculine, though his long, dark eyelashes and gentle curves make you a little more eager to hear him mewl. His golden hair falls over his eyes as he looks your way, raising his ass to your hips by himself. You let out a little gasp, feeling the base of your strap bump against your clit. You mask it with a cough as you line your strap up to his hole again, watching his dick jump with interest. Clear fluid leaks from the tip, and his labored breathing gets harsher as you press against him. He lets out a deep gasp, scrabbling at the floor. Yup, this was his position. You slide your cock in with near effortlessness; he was more loosened and wet with lube, making the second entry a little easier.

As you pump in and out of him slowly, Sam’s little gasps tell you exactly where his button is. With each stroke, he shakes and deflates a little, head dipping between his shoulders as he focuses on his hands. “Speak for me, puppy,” you coo, leaning over him. Your shirt pools over his naked back as he gets into the rhythm, breathless noises escaping from his mouth as you fuck him.

Abiding to your request, he lets himself go, pleading your name as his moans get louder. You try your best to stifle his noises with your palm, but he continues.

“H-holy  _ fuck _ , pl- you feel so  _ good _ ,” he gasps, a whine marring his words. He turns his head to the side, straining his head to look back at you; you dip over his back and take his lips with your own, satisfied with his words. His mouth is hot, and wet, and messy; his spit runs down your chin, him panting and stuttering moans against you, his arms shaking from the effort of holding himself up as you stroke your dick in and out of him with skill. He falls from your lips, again shaking on the ground, unable to keep himself up. He keens with his cheek against the floor, each pump from your strap sending him further into degradation. He looks absolutely undone.

You straighten your back before beginning to rail into him with everything you have, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing in your closet. Sam cries out, but the heat bursting in your gut and spreading through your veins like wildfire makes you not care if anyone hears you. Sam’s  _ ah, ah _ fills your ears as you fill him, his cock leaking and jumping.

“I-I’m going to cum-” He groans, any strength in his body completely disappearing as he collapses. You hold his hips to yours as you slam in and out, the slaps getting drowned out by Sam’s cries  and moans. His dick jumps one final time before white cum spurts from the tip as Sam’s scream rips through his throat, keening your name along with curses and pleads. He pants as you withdraw your strap from his hole, looking back at you with lidded, tired eyes, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

He couldn’t speak as you flip his ragdoll body over again, seeing his dick twitch again as it sends out one more small rope of cum. You weren’t even touching him, and he came. You grin, pressing your tip to his entrance once more.

“I-is that not it?” He wheezes, head falling. You shake your head.

“Not for me,” You said as you plunge into him one more time, gyrating your hips to grind the strap into your clit. He cries out, a hand shooting out to grab your arm.

“I- that’s  _ sensitive _ ,” he gasps. “F-fuck-” His dick twitches, hardening again. “K-keep going,” he says, looking at your eyes with his own sparkling blue ones. Drool leaks from his mouth as you push his leg over your shoulder, gaining a better angle to fuck the strap into your clit. You ram into him as hard as you can as praise leaks from your mouth.

“Fuck, Sam, you-you’re such a  _ good boy _ \- you- you’re so good for me,” you whine as the strap grinds into you, the heat stretching into your womb and making you tighten your grip. He gasps out, your fingernails digging into his thighs.

“I’m good for you,” He sobs, tears welling up in his eyes. “Oh my  _ god _ ,” his face screws up as tears roll down his face and he grabs your neck, grinding against you. You cry out yourself, burying your face in his neck as you pump in and out, an orgasm blossoming from your belly button  _ finally  _ as your moans crescendo together. Senpai- Sam- comes a second time, ropes of cum splattering against both of your shirts, just as your toes curl and you falter above him, collapsing onto his chest as your legs shake. Both of you grip each other as your orgasms last, Sam’s groans filling your ear, his dick twitching against your stomach.

With a deep breath, you roll off of him, giving yourself a minute to gather yourself before lifting your head to your hand. Sam has his eyes closed, hands rested peacefully over his cum-splattered shirt. He looks dead. You laugh and stand up on wobbly feet, holding onto a bookcase for support.

“Come on,  _ Senpai.  _ We have to leave before someone finds you dripping on the floor.” Sam grumbles a string of incoherent words before opening his eyes with a grumpy expression.

“I don’t think I can walk,” he mutters, waving his hand. You cock your eyebrow. While it was a compliment, you two really had taken your time, so waiting around wouldn’t bode well. You pull him to his feet by his wrist as he yelps; he leans on you with trembling knees, looking away.

“I told you I couldn’t,” Sam says, red dusting his messy face as he avoids your eyes. You roll yours, sliding him into an empty chair in the corner of the closet. “Wait here,” you say, opening the door to the closet at last.

The light hits you with a vengeance, making you shield your eyes. Despite the dark of the closet, it’s still daylight outside; school had just ended when you began fucking with Sam. You rummage around your bag in the empty classroom, taking out one of your shirts. It’s a little big, but he’ll be fine. Going back in the closet, you take off your own shirt and toss the new one over your shoulder. Throwing your old one at Sam, you tell him to clean himself up. Sam sighs as he complies, not protesting the use of your already-messy shirt to clean up his spill.

“What should I do with this?” Sam asks, holding up the shirt.

You shrug. “Just throw it on the ground.” You toss your new shirt at him as he does just that. He sputters, holding it up. “I thought this was your shirt?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, no,” you laugh. “it would be rude of me to let you walk around in the button up that  _ I  _ made you cum on.” He blanches for a moment, before abashedly unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off of him before pulling on yours, the fabric pooling on his lap. It’s big on him, too. He finally stands up, his legs shaking like a baby deer. You smile subconsciously; he’s cute. A little.

He looks at you with a pink blush, different than the erotic red one that was imprinted on your mind from minutes earlier. His small smile is enlightening. He grabs the shirt and pulls it down a bit to cover his hips, shifting from foot to foot.

“So… this is it, huh?” He laughs. “You won’t tell anyone… right?” He looks at you, worried. You shrug.

“‘Course not. Wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re a little slut now,” you chuckle as he turned red again, tensing up.

“Wha- you’re so rude!” He protests, though his own playful grin says otherwise. As you exit the closet with a laugh to take off your equipment, Sam’s call makes you look back. He’s leaning a little ways out of the door now. “You’re not leaving, are you?” He hesitates for a second. “I know we just… met…” He cackles incredulously, as if he can’t believe it. “...but… I’d like to… talk to you again, yeah?” He bites his lip nervously as he looks at you.

You blank. Really?

“S-sure,” you stammer, hurrying out of your strap as you roll it back in it’s bag and zip the bundle into your duffel. You feel silly holding it in your hands now. “I- um. If you…” you rub the back of your neck.

“How about I’ll text you?” Sam says, a smirk marring his words.

You roll your eyes. “Sure,” you say, holding back a blush. “if you’ve got my number.”

Sam holds up the collar of his shirt. “you’ve got ‘Property of _____’ with your phone number written on the shirt. Very…” Sam squints. “choice.”

You bark out a laugh. “Right! I forgot about that. Well… if you insist.” The two of you make eye contact again, with the both of you immediately averting your gazes. You can’t just fuck a guy and be normal afterwards? Weird.

“Well, if you can handle yourself, Senpai, I’ve got to be going now,” you say. He nods. You feel bad for a moment. “Don’t worry, though. If you text me, I’ll answer. That’s a promise.” You goofily salute him, immediately feeling embarrassed. Your awkwardness is soothed by his golden laughter and appeased smile.

“Don’t forget me on your way home!” He jokes, waving his hand as he fumbles with the band of his pants, pulling them up.

“How could I…” you murmur, slinging your bags over your shoulder and leaving him in the classroom.


End file.
